Until we meet again…

Hi Everyone, I’m taking a break from blogging and I wanted to thank each and every one of you for your wonderful comments. The magazine has grown and that is where I find myself most of the time. If not there, I prefer to be in the sunshine!

And so, until I return, have a great summer and stay in touch. Most of you know how to reach me but if you don’t you can always reach me at editor@wordcatalystmagazine.com

Thanks again, Shirley

Two Roses

Before I go
I’ll leave for you
two roses on the table
and though such sadness
fills your face
I’ve seen your wisdom, wit and grace
and know
that you’ll be able
to understand it must be so
though I love you more
than you could know
I’ll leave for you
before I go
two roses on the table.

Lights Out

the fire’s out and all is dark
there is no ember, coal or spark
to generate the heat that filled the space
i kick the ashes now and then
and hope what was will be again
but know that it can never be replaced

and so i leave you as i came
no closer to immortal fame
but closer to my heart than most have been
I sense you’ve found your summer bliss
and left behind that dark abyss
the stone has seen the light – good bye, my friend.

In Sight

All things must end the way all things began
Some harder to accept or understand

When time has robbed the artist of their sight
Their images no longer come to light

We must accept there is no brilliant plan
To rescue them from their eternal night.

Drought

Every day, I check the well
Each day, a bit more solemn
I slowly let the bucket drop
And hope each day to hear it stop
Before it hits the bottom.

Rest in Peace – For Bob Church

Our dear friend and colleague, Bob Church, passed away on April 29, 2009 after a long and courageous battle with cancer. After a short hiatus, Bob continued his writings and shared them with us almost daily through emails. He was an inspiration to us all and has left the gift of his words in the archives of Word Catalyst.

I began writing the following poem when I first learned that Bob had been diagnosed with cancer and had trouble finishing it as I waited to see if the chemo would perform a miracle – it didn’t. I finally finished it as part of a special edition chapbook that was presented to him by a group of Word Catalyst writers who attended his birthday bash in September of 2008.

I now realize that a miracle did take place – even if it wasn’t the one we were all hoping for. We met Bob Church. We held his hand, laughed at his jokes, cried together and listened as he recited stories in a way that only he could have done. In the process, we forged bonds of friendship that grew out of our mutual love and respect for a man named Bob Church. Thank you, Bob.

My Dear Friend, How can we explain the bond that has formed through cyberspace? We are books without covers and yet we read each other so well. Without ever touching hands, you have touched my heart and soul and will forever be a part of me. Your wisdom and wit have brought a smile to my face on days when I thought I didn’t have one in me. Your gentle heart has brought me to tears on many occasions. I am truly blessed to have found a friend like you in this great big world of strangers. Every now and then we meet someone special. Someone who changes who we are. You are that special someone. Thank you for coming into my life.

Gentle Heart

Oh gentle heart I hear your silent beat
I sense the tender touch of gentle hands
Your spirit sings a song so bittersweet
Of fantasies from lost, forbidden lands
I listen for that beat that stirs my soul
And wills my heart to shed its cool pretense
Each vine that intertwines around the pole
Envelops and adorns the weathered fence
Our friends are vines that hold us when we’re weak
With miles between us still our spirits met
We’re living proof that souls alone can speak
And that, my friend, I never will forget
I thank you for providing me a star
To cherish and look up to – near or far.

~ In memory of Bob Church ~ Rest in Peace, my friend.

Home Again

Exhaustion has taken its usual toll
Depleting my mind and invading my soul
There’re times when it takes all the strength you possess
To recapture the loved ones with which you are blessed
And once again feel you are whole.

Welcome Home Kids!

What if…

An egg is just an egg
when it lands within the nest.
Without a rooster’s presence
an egg’s an egg… at best.

An egg is just an egg
no matter what the beast.
How can one be called a being
and the other just a feast?

An egg is just an egg
no matter what they preach.
The power to heal the living
May be now within our reach.

A piece of steel is not a bridge
no matter how it’s bent.
An egg is just an egg
not a being by mere intent.

Sprung

The snow is beginning to travel
Leaving brown earth in its path
As the sun claims the day
It will soon have its way
Forcing winter to swallow its wrath.

Whine and Roses

in silence
they suffer

unemployed

in darkness
they wander

homeless

in need of hope
they pray

questioning

in need of nothing
they whine

shamelessly

totally oblivious
to their rose garden

Figures

I find no validation
or explicit explanation
for unfounded fascination
leading only to frustration
nor any known equation
for this bittersweet sensation
just the powerful persuasion
of my own imagination.

Dream Catchers

they meet each night
and dance til dawn

two dreamers
entwined

lips barely touching

whispering
hungering
to be kissed

but dreams
are all they know

They part each morning
awaiting dusk

longing
aching
as they wait

for reality to subside

and the dream
to begin

once again.

Swan Song

The Silver Swan

The silver Swan, who living had no Note,

when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.

Leaning her breast upon the reedy shore,

thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:

“Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!

“More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise.”

– Orlando Gibbons

Purgatory

The winter’s freeze has stripped the trees at last
One lonesome leaf left dangling on the limb
And not unlike the days of winters past
Each day is prey to Mother Nature’s whim
The garden that was once a scape of green
Is covered now with crystal mounds of white
The path goes in and out and in between
And like a maze it leads us back to night
That beacon in the midnight sky prevails
As daylight finds another path to cross
My mind is on a distant wooded trail
A forest deep where you and I are lost
Discovering some new and sacred ground
And wishing only never to be found.

Little Girls

Little girls grow up to be
Big girls with a need to see
What else the world can offer them
As off they fly on just a whim
And with them went a part of me
Will I ever feel whole again?

This Mourning

As each one left the room last night
We knew that with the morning light
The angels may have beat us to your door
One hug, one kiss, one last good bye
“I love you” filled each tearful eye
And every heart left yearning for one more.

With angels hovered overhead
And loved ones circled round your bed
I sensed your spirit readying to roam
I felt their presence gently tug
As I retrieved one final hug
And while we slept the angels took you home.

In memory of Esther Allard. Dec. 22, 1920 – Jan. 21, 2009

Together, separately

The spider and I walk together
on a shared yet separate path
both forever yielding
for the other one to pass.
Side by side we travel
the spider and the sparrow
he on his path, me on mine
we walk the straight and narrow.

I Can’t Get NO…

it takes but a fraction
a bit of a moment
to induce a reaction
though I dare not condone it
adventures in faction
of a worthy opponent
denies satisfaction –
the desired component

January Word Catalyst

First of all, I would like to offer a great big “thank you” to Harry Furness for putting into words the respect and admiration we all share for Bob Church. His tribute to Bob is well deserved and long overdue.

If you’re looking for short stories we have them! And our poetry section is loaded with gems! If that’s not enough we have all the great monthly columns including a guest column from Manali H. Shah of Mumbai, India. Her column makes one realize that although we are all different we are also very much the same. Also, check out this month’s featured artist Roberta Lee and don’t miss our photo section.

Our newest category at Word Catalyst is Children’s Corner for the young and the young at heart alike. If you create stories, art or poetry for children we would love to see your work!

We are now accepting submissions for the February issue including a section of love poems in celebration of Valentine’s Day. Love is in the air at Word Catalyst …why not join us! Valentine’s poems should contain Love Lines in the subject line and sent to editor@wordcatalystmagazine.com

Midstream

Crossing rivers to distant shores
Warm waters seep from reservoirs
Standing midstream, caught up in the motion
I close my eyes to hear the ocean
Willing waves to turn the tide
To nurture seeds of flowers denied
Still waters pooled around my feet
Stir memories of something sweet.